we can't make any promises now

When Remi spoke, Loren’s eyes flicked up to the Attuned’s head, which had more feathers than curls now. And then the Launceleyn’s thoughts turned to the way Remi had responded with a flinch every time the summoner lost control of his voice and his emotions. The librarian knew those signs, knew exactly what they meant. Even just standing here, barely saying anything, was hurting Remi. “I don’t want to.” Loren’s voice was a broken and defeated whisper. “But that’s all I seem capable of.” The evidence for that was all around him. Saying it out loud just drove home how true it was. First, he’d failed his family. Then he’d failed his friends. Everything he touched crumbled before him. He let out a low and bitter laugh, a sound devoid of all life, all light. “Huh. Guess you were right, earlier. Guess I am a Launceleyn after all.” It was more for himself than for the alchemist. They said blood would tell, and he guessed they were right, because despite Loren’s best efforts he’d become a monster. Just like he was always supposed to be. LOREN Not quite an open book